And That Was How I Died
by GarnettYeargin
Summary: Yes I read the book, but I also watched the movie. A retelling of the fight scene between Curley and Lennie told from Curley's point of view.


**This was just an English mini project I had to do a few years back. I was supposed to retell the fight scene between Curley and Lennie from either Slim, Lenny, or George, but I decided I wanted to try my hand with Curley's point of view and VIOLA! this was born. Fortunately, it is not that bad, so I don't think it'll hurt your eyes. I checked it a million times (almost literally because I had to make sure I got a good grade) but if you see any mistakes, my apologies.**

**Disclaimer: Like I would actually own OMAM and it's characters, please.**

** Now, have fun!**

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**Curley's POV**

I knew he wasn't lying to me, but I just couldn't back down now and make myself look weak in the face of this simple farm hand. No, I would avenge my embarrassment Slim had caused me in front of his other useless companions. There was a soft warning voice in the very back of my head telling me to calm down and think rationally, but I quickly disposed of it with a curse as it flared my anger even more.

Slim calmly entered the small house with me fuming behind him, but trying to calm down as well. I barged into the bunk house making the wooden door rattle and almost fall off of its hinges. I looked around taking in my surroundings. George, Candy, and Lennie were sitting at the small, washed out table in the middle of the bunk house with a distant look in each of their eyes and a small longing smile plastered to their faces. As soon as George had detected my presence in the room he sprung up to his feet, dragging the old man Candy with him as well. Their once illuminated faces were quickly blanketed with a dark shadow of annoyance. George had rapidly guarded his expression, showing none at all.

"Well, I didn't mean nothing, Slim. I just ast you," I managed with a scowl.

This man had told me the truth the first time, but something in me wouldn't accept that. It's just that I don't trust my own wife in this farm. There are way too many hungry wolves and she willingly dances vulnerable on their line of territory. All she wants is attention and it doesn't matter who it is from as long as she gets what she wants. I'm not even sure of why I even married her in the first place. Maybe it was the constant crave for approval that I had always sought my entire life. I wanted to prove myself a man to my father.

He had always made sure that I knew I was a mistake and I wasn't worthy of being his son. Even after I won tournaments in boxing, he still made sure I wouldn't forget how much of a failure and poor excuse of a son I was. He would fervently reproach me and repeat for the millionth time that I would never be more than a wimpy, immature, and not-man-enough boy. He even dared to question my sexual orientation; he would just never seize to horribly amaze me. My father doubted that I would ever get married or even get a girl for that matter.

That's when I met this woman I call my wife. We had been dating for a month and I decided to just take the plunge. When I asked her to marry me, she had jumped around squealing like a newborn piglet and finally settling down accepted my proposition with a blinding smile that reached from ear to ear.

This great accomplishment had won me a pitiful amount of acceptance from my father, which was a miracle for me.

"Well, you been askin' me too often, Slim replied pulling me out of my thoughts, "I'm getting Goddamn sick of it. If you can't look after your own goddamn wife, what you expect me to do about it? You lay offa me," he finished.

"I'm jus' tryin' to tell you I didn't mean nothing," I countered. Guilt was eating at me by now, but I wasn't going to apologize for nothing. "I jus' thought you might of saw her."

Couldn't he just forget about what I had implied back in the barn? As I thought more about it, my anger flared and turned hot-white making me lash out to anyone that presented a threat to me and my manliness.

The next passing moments were a blur to me. I saw how Lennie kept on smiling and giggling softly as I was being put down by the rest of the gang. That did it. He had unlocked the door I had so faithfully guarded and kept under secure lock. This door leading to all of my painful memories with the abuse I suffered from my father, being the laughingstock of the whole village, getting trampled over by the words my father spoke to me, and most importantly it withheld all of my life's insecurities.

The next moment I was unleashing all of my anger and pain through my swift fists on Lennie's bulky body and his unguarded face. He backed away as I threw more punches at him, his eyes wide with shock and fear. I was blinded by the red blanket of anger and pain covering my eyes and flashes of those memories that kept replaying themselves in front of my eyes. I heard nothing around me anymore, just the mocking laughter from the people in my memories.

Suddenly, I felt pain shoot up through my right arm clearing away the red fume that fogged my mind. I winced and tried to nudge my hand away from the firm, strong grip Lennie's enormous hand had on mine. I forced my eyes open and stared in a trance at my hand, no longer feeling the unbearable pain, but not feeling my hand at all anymore.

A metallic smell filled my nostrils as I stared with bulging eyes at my hand being crushed in Lennie's. The crimson red of the blood filled my vision and the sound of cracking bones resonated in my ears. And yet, I felt nothing.

At the sight of it all, I couldn't take it anymore and gave way to the bliss that the darkness at the corner of my eyes offered me. I heard muffled yells around me as I dropped to the floor gripping my crushed hand with the other one. I vaguely remember nodding my head absentmindedly to a question my mind wouldn't register properly and then, I was no more.


End file.
